So we’re taking the night train to Utrecht. Night trains sound a lot more romantic and fun than they actually are – our last trip on one, there was something rattling in the wall. Not consistently, no, it would go silent for awhile, and then just as you were drifting off to sleep, takka takka takka there it was again. The time before that, we had the cabin next to the staff room. They were… chatty.
Anyway, despite past experiences, we are doing it again. Ignatz is already in Munich, because he spends one weekend a month with Georg (his godfather), so the Sniglet and I will just pick him up on the way. I’ve been trying to figure out how to schedule this: the train leaves at 10:45 p.m., and I asked the neighbors to drive us to the train station but they’re going to the Eric Clapton concert, so they can do it before 5 or so, but not after. So I figured we’d go to the Fish Museum. That closes at 7. Then we can go see Kung Fu Panda, dubbed into German by people who are NOT Jack Black and Dustin Hoffman, that’ll take us up to 8:30. Then there’s two hours. With a cranky, tired 7-year-old. In a train station, and yeah, that is never the best part of town. So I was pondering this difficulty when Georg called and offered to make us dinner at his house. Yes, the same Georg I complain about frequently, for no real reason except that he drives me completely batshit inSANE – is rescuing us. This is so terribly unfair of him. My life would be simpler if he could be reliably irksome.
Maybe he’ll corner me and criticize my fashion choices for two hours. Just to keep my preconceptions from exploding.
Song du jour of the day: Let Go, by Frou Frou